


Sometimes it’s hard to be... eloquent

by Sys



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 16:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16685389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sys/pseuds/Sys
Summary: “You know, when you like someone... sometimes it’s hard to be... eloquent... about how you feel? To... tell them how much they mean... uh... meant... to you... how important they are in your life. And how special.” (2.05)





	Sometimes it’s hard to be... eloquent

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I posted this one here before, but I can't seem to find it.

It’s London, tipping him off. The grey skies. The cold. The blank faces of the men and women passing him by. Everything’s just what he expected. Home. No more sun. No more sand. No more seafood. But the list’s longer. And it’s not the beach and the waves he’s missing. It is Harry. Of course. Those penetrating eyes. The green scales. Always there when you need someone to talk to. But it’s the whole gang… The gang. That’s what he’s called them when his courage failed him and he’s corrected himself. Again. Stammering to take back the words he’s wanted to say.

 

And then the job’s done and he’s given a choice. Easy, really. Staying home in the comforting cold drizzle. Or going back to where the sun seems to shine ninety percent of the year. It should be an easy choice, picking London. Only that things changed since he’s last had that offer. And maybe the sun’s the lesser of two evils, compared to what it’d mean to break his word. 

Probably a sign when he loses his luggage again. Or maybe it’s just a perfect excuse not to thank them for the welcome. Not to pay any heed to _how_ fantastic Camille looks in that dress. Grumble for a while, accept one cup of tea. And then head back to the bungalow and admit to Harry that he’s a bloody coward... 

 

“She’s been taking good care of you while I was gone, hasn’t she?” He clears the plate of Harry’s most recent fruit-fly mash. But Harry just stares at him and it feels reproachful when it’s just a perfectly normal Harry stare. “Oh don’t you start. It’s not that easy, saying something. Sure, it’s all right if you’re a lizard. They don’t expect eloquence from you, do they? Just catch some flies or whatever you do to attract them. And then you two put your eggs in the sand one day and secure your offspring’s going to have nice green scales.”

He picks up a book, reclining on the bed, ignoring Harry for the time being. But it’s not quite enough to ban the regrets. For once, just once, it’d have been nice to just smile and say “I’m glad I’m back, too” when she’d taken him aside. Smiled and said that she is happy he’s back. But this time there wasn’t any awkward stammering. No sudden change of topic to disguise the meaning of his words. No this time it was worse. “Well I can’t say I’ve been missing the _heat_.” How’s she ever supposed to decipher that into “I’ve been missing you, too.”?

Distractions prove futile till he gives in and picks up his phone. Just stares at her name for a while before he dials. And listens when she answers, suddenly not able to make up his mind what he actually wants to say.

“Richard?” _It’s good to hear your voice_ would be the truth. But he can’t bring himself to say it. “Are you all right?” 

“Errr... um. Yes. Listen... I’ve been wondering if you’d maybe... perhaps if it isn’t too much of an inconvenience... would you like to solve a crossword puzzle... or... or something?”

“Are you asking me to visit you?”

“Only if you... that is if you don’t mind.”

“Just let me say goodnight to the... gang.” She mutters and he hears laughter in the background. Of course she stayed with them. He should have known that. 

“If you’d rather...”

“No.” She interrupts him. “No, I’ve always been wanting to solve Crossword puzzles.” He ignores the mocking tone. Almost misses the quieter. “With you.”

When she hangs up he realises that it’s time to take a quick shower. Have a quick look around to smooth the bed sheets. And only then does it hit him that he’s left the bed impeccable when he took off. So the current state... he leans down, taking in the smell that’s so familiar he’s hardly noticed it before. Shouldn’t make his pulse go crazy. 

And then he hears the car outside. Waits for the steps, trying to look busy doing something, anything, that’s not waiting for her. 

“Crossword puzzles?” She asks, grinning broadly as she comes in.

“It was...” _Ah hell._ “I just wanted to thank you.”

The grin vanishes, replaced by a warm but insecure smile. “What for?”

“Looking after Harry.” 

“Oh. It was nothing.”

“Would you like...” He gets them beers from the fridge and she takes hers. Thanks him. Only mentions those bloody crosswords again three or four times as they stand outside, watching the waves wash onto the shore.

“You could just say it.” She suggests, taking another swig.

“Say what?”

“That you’ve missed this.”

“I didn’t.”

“You’re back here. With the heat. And the sun. And the sand. And the seafood.”

There’s no denying that. Just like there’s no denying that the reason he’s back is standing beside him, her grin cheeky again now. And it’s easier, facing her when she’s trying to drive him up the walls. 

“And me.” She finishes.

“You’re not quite as bad as seafood.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Camille...” He starts, but doesn’t know just what he’s wanted to say. When he turns to look at her it seems impossible to look away. Gather and sort his thoughts. Say something nicer. But not too nice. Something that’s not going to make him want to take it all back again instantaneously. 

“Richard?” She finally asks. “Why don’t you ask me to dance with you?” 

“I don’t...”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“This is... this isn’t a good idea.”

Her fingers are soft but firm beneath his chin. And she’s giving him that look again. That look that makes him feel that he should run but keeps him glued to the spot instead. 

“Do you trust me?”

“I... that is... of course I trust you. But...”

“And my instinct, how often have I been right when I told you that...”

“It is hardly appropriate for me to...”

“Just shut up.” She says, but it sounds like a plea. And she smiles, her eyes filled with something he can’t quite place. It feels as if it’s the exact moment to kiss her. Draw her in his arms. Whisper just how much he’s missed her. How a few days felt like months in this odd paradox that time becomes when you’re feeling lost and alone. 

And then the moment’s lost and her eyes fill with angry tears, misjudging his hesitation. He couldn’t put a finger on when exactly things have become like that between them. It’s been a while now. A dance, one step closer, two steps back. And each time she looks hurt because he’s too bloody stupid to know what she wants. Or when he does have a certain idea, he’s too clumsy to put the plan into motion. Not at the right time anyway. Moments later when she already looks hurt. Or upset. And he hears himself stammering like a school boy, trying to apologise. Explain. Anything...

“I should go.”

“Camille...” Needs to be a big gesture now. Or she’ll turn to leave. “Would you take a walk with me?” He gestures towards the beach.

Big enough to stop her anyway. 

“If you take off your shoes.” 

He sighs. Watches as she takes off her sandals. And reluctantly follows the example, taking off his shoes, then his socks. Sighs again as rolls his trousers up to his knees. 

Her smile’s a bit crooked then. But she extends her hand, allowing him to grasp it. Leading him towards the damp sand right next to where the waves are playing. The silence’s comfortable for now. And for once he guesses what it is she wants from him when she walks closer, close enough to allow him to wrap his arm around her shoulder, drawing her near. It’d feel good, holding her like this. If it wasn’t for the urchin he’s likely to step on any moment now. 

The sweet torment ends when she finally takes pity. “We can go back now.”

“Thank you.”

“Or you could kiss me.”

“I really... I shouldn’t.”

“Because I’m French?”

“Errr. No. I think we’ve established that I... that I... like you... despite that. But...”

“...But what?”

“Well I am your boss.”

“Really? Is _that_ what’s stopping you?”

When he shrugs and nods, she laughs, holding on to his shoulder while he puts an arm around her waist to stop her from losing her footing. It’s hardly funny, but as she hangs there, giggling helplessly, it’s quite impossible to look appropriately cross. Slowly then, it becomes impossible not to grin, too. And when, trapped between the sand and the sea she kisses his lips, he just pulls her closer.

 

“I’m glad you came back.” She says while they’re finally walking back towards the Bungalow.

“Well I missed...” He hesitates, but it’s rather obvious now anyway. “I’ve missed this. You. I’ve missed you, Camille.”

She grins, then. “I hear you do that when we’re not together.”


End file.
